Two of Rose
by weaknessbred
Summary: (SYOC CLOSED!) A fun doubles tournament to waste away your precious time in the spring!
1. Tournament Announcement

"It's almost that time of year again, Liepard." The man muttered in a reminiscent tone, losing his train of thought as his fingers lost themselves in the soft fur of the cat's pelt. Liepard, lean and limber as she was, stretched momentarily, yielding to his touch. A moment or two passed, and she became nervous at the constant stimulation. She gently swatted his hand away when it seemed that he had no awareness of how long it had been there.

"Forgive me, my dear. You know how I get when I think of the past." A wistful smile appeared on his face, and the liepard seemed to understand. She mewled softly, then started walking towards the south wall of the room, away from her owner. Large windows beckoned to her, and she yawned before curling up on the floor, in the middle of a sunbeam that was pouring through the pane.

He laughed, and reached for his walking cane situated to his right. Placing both hands at the top of the cane, he used it as leverage to stand. When he was at full height, he could see the wide horizon beyond the windowed wall, and the sunlight became more inviting than blinding—although some part of him _did_ want to look away.

"I can't wait to see this year's contestants," he told his liepard, despite knowing she was half-asleep at this point. He felt the need to say it aloud, nevertheless. "Fresh faces and whatnot. You'd think I'd be downtrodden at the obvious evidence of the passage of time, because trainers get younger and younger each year. But I would face that harsh reality any day, if it meant seeing their passion and determination on the field again."

The man reached his hand out, and placed it against the smooth glass. It felt lukewarm from the afternoon sun, but it was as comforting as it might have been to hold another person's hand. He sighed.

"And I should hope to change someone's life with my own contributions. If I were not so selfish, I'd simply give out the prize money without the tournament in the way. But, Liepard, you know this, don't you? The look that trainers have when they desperately want something—the drive to become stronger than anyone else. I want to see that, so in order to get to my money, they have to show me their desire. I think that's a fair trade, Liepard, don't you?"

He rambled on to his favorite pokemon, but she was as lazy as ever. Still, she flicked her tail at the ends of his shoes in an amused manner, and beneath her whiskers he could see the ends of her mouth stretch into a happy grin.

 _Yes,_ she thought to herself, _I think that's perfectly fair._

* * *

Later that week, the tournament was officially announced. Altair DeRosso, billionaire and once-champion of the Unova Region—or was it Kanto?—did this every few years or so. On a privately owned archipelago, he hosted a doubles trainer tournament, accepting hundreds of applicants every time. Then the tournament would start, and within the first two weeks after grueling battles, the weaker trainers would be separated from the ones who had a chance at actually winning. Then _that_ bracket got smaller, and eventually those that made it into the top sixteen were taken to the largest island of the bunch—one named Connection Island for simplicity's sake alone—and duked it out in the last week of the tournament.

In the end, only one pair of trainers would win, and the two individuals would split the grand prize of ten million poke, a generous sum given by Altair DeRosso himself. Not to mention that the sponsors and partnerships in cooperation with the tournament would also offer their own deals. Royal Unova, among other cruises, gave a free two-week vacation to the winners. Goldenrod Radio Tower would invite the winners to do an interview and spread their fame to the Johto region. All of these would be prizes to the victors, and more. Even without the partnerships in place, the winners would still get hounded by news reporters and talk show hosts, who wanted to know more than what they could glean from the TV screen.

There was fame _and_ fortune to be had from this tournament, if not some luxurious and stupid combination of both. It seemed too generous from a man like Altair, and surely there would skeptics each year that wondered if he was up to something behind the scenes. They wondered if he was secretly a dark and villainous man, capable of taking them all out with a single swing of his hand. Of course, once they actually _saw_ the man—walking cane, arthritis, and all—those ideas were quickly shot down. But no one could deny that the tournament was too good to be true, not even the contestants.

So, the contestants flooded the scene like no other. And once the initial days passed, only the best sixteen (or the luckiest sixteen, who could tell?) were left. Who will win DeRosso's Doubles Tournament? Who will take the riches home? These lonely questions and more hang in the air, and the trainers waiting for the answers would become lonelier, as time passed…

* * *

 _Please note that the tournament takes place during the springtime. Connection Island and the other tournament locations have mild spring weather, if not slightly on the warmer side._

 **TRAINER INFORMATION**

 **Name** : (Full name, please. Nicknames may also be listed here.)

 **Age** : (Applicants must be ten years of age or older.)

 **Birthdate** :

 **Gender** :

 **Origin** : (Hometown and/or Region.)

 **Appearance** : (In addition to body description and facial features, please include: height, weight, and the outfit(s) your character may be seen wearing during the tournament.)

 **Personality** : (Please be detailed and include positive _and_ negative traits about your character! Descriptions of body language and speech patterns are appreciated, but not necessary.)

 **History** : (Please be detailed! You may or may not want to include why your character is entering the tournament in the first place.)

 **Quote** : (Optional! Just for fun!)

 **POKEMON INFORMATION**

Because this is a _doubles tournament,_ each contestant must have exactly _three_ pokemon (no more, no less) that are capable of fighting. It is preferred, but not necessary, that contestants have a water and/or flying type pokemon to accommodate possible emergencies/evacuations.

Restrictions to entries include: legendary pokemon, mythical pokemon, baby pokemon (or any pokemon hatched within the last 12 months), and ultra beasts. Only _one_ shiny pokemon is to be allowed per contestant.

A team cannot have the same species of pokemon appear more than once. (i.e. you cannot have a team of three sylveons, or a team of two sylveons and a staraptor. A team that consists of a sylveon, staraptor, and kangaskhan is valid.)

 **ENTRY NO. 1**

Species:

Nickname: (Optional)

Gender:

Ability: (Hidden abilities are allowed!)

Moves: (Max. 4. At least _one_ move must inflict damage to the opponent.)

Personality: (Detailed or brief descriptions are acceptable.)

History: (In reference to the trainer—full history of the pokemon itself is optional.)

 **ENTRY NO. 2**

Species:

Nickname: (Optional)

Gender:

Ability: (Hidden abilities are allowed!)

Moves: (Max. 4. At least _one_ move must inflict damage to the opponent.)

Personality: (Detailed or brief descriptions are acceptable.)

History: (In reference to the trainer—full history of the pokemon itself is optional.)

 **ENTRY NO. 3**

Species:

Nickname: (Optional)

Gender:

Ability: (Hidden abilities are allowed!)

Moves: (Max. 4. At least _one_ move must inflict damage to the opponent.)

Personality: (Detailed or brief descriptions are acceptable.)

History: (In reference to the trainer—full history of the pokemon itself is optional.)

* * *

 _Note: While I encourage people to send as many characters as they want to, please do not spam!_


	2. Quarterfinals I

**NOTE** : Hey everyone! First off, I'd like to thank you all for being so incredibly patient with me. This first chapter was meant to be published months ago, but life hit me with full force and I've been busy since then. Luckily, I got the technical "first chapter" down pat!

Now, just in case you didn't read the description, this SYOC is still _open._ There are plenty of slots left (ten, to be exact!) for characters! Feel free to submit a few yourself, but please make sure that if you do so, you _send it to me via PM (private messaging)_ and that you _do not fill out the form and review it_ instead. Because of the open slots, it's very likely that your character will get in and make an appearance~

That being said, please enjoy this chapter, which features and introduces the following characters: Namie Kosaka, Naoki Morita, Circu Dimir, Dean Milton, Carmen Prescott, and Gabriel Volantis!

* * *

"Most of the pairs got reshuffled, huh? That's fine by me, my last partner was a total fuddy-duddy. I totally carried the team all this time!" Namie huffed as she said this, cheeks flushed with equal parts indignation and embarrassment. The reporters nodded in assent to her words, while journalists scribbled feverishly in their notebooks. She made eye contact with one of the camera crew workers, and quickly added on: "I-I mean, he wasn't _that_ bad but like...he was so stressed out about this tournament, y'know! I don't get that at all. I think everyone should just relax and learn to have fun."

She sighed tiredly, running her hands through the bulk of one of her pigtails. The sensation of soft skin against thick strand was comforting, and she tapped her foot to the beat of some unknown song in the same one-two tempo of her fingers. "Anyway, is that all you wanted to hear? I have to, uh, y'know... _do_ stuff now."

"Thank you for your time, Miss Kosaka!" One of them cheered. "Good luck with the rest of the tournament!" Soon enough, the frenzy of news reporters dissipated, and flocked around the next unfortunate contestant for a few snippy comments or two. Namie almost felt bad, but she figured that everyone was used to this treatment by now.

At the very least, she hoped her new partner would be used to it, because she hated speaking for more than just herself. The last guy really _was_ a fuddy duddy, since he wilted in front of the cameras and left her to do all the talking. It was a good thing that she generally had a lot to say, otherwise it would become grating and repetitive on the audience's ears. Suddenly becoming aware of such things, Namie refocused her attention on finding her new partner—one that became shuffled and reassigned to her, as contestants generally were randomized a second time for the latter half of the tournament. Most contestants were, anyway. If a duo really hit it off early on, it made sense that they asked to stick together.

If any of those duos were like Gabriel and Carmen, however, then they would be inseparable but deadly forces on the battlefield. Namie had been too preoccupied to introduce herself to them—or to most of her competitors, for that matter—but she glanced from them at a distance, and heard countless rumors about their persevering love and their heart-wrenching story. Even now, the details whirred in her head like electricity surging through metal, like a signal reaching its rod before sending out waves into the great unknown. Words like _fire, tragedy, traitor, drama,_ among other things, none of which sounded too pleasing but their grim nature had to have held some truth, too.

Namie wondered if she should have stuck with that fuddy duddy, after all. She had the option to, he was the one that said he didn't mind staying as her partner in the quarter-finals and onward (if they got farther than that, anyway), and he said that it was all up to her since she had been leading him this far, to begin with. Of course, he shouldn't have given her so much power in deciding. As young and excitable as Namie was, she was equally ambitious and competitive, and so she saw the opportunity to get randomized with someone else—someone stronger, stabler, more suited to her personality—as a surefire ticket into victory.

She gave up the patternized battles she accustomed herself to now, in hopes that her new partner will be just as eager in their case. Maybe together, they would be as dynamic as that couple was, or at least half as memorable. If not, it didn't really matter to her, but she wanted to make it to the semifinals, at the very least. Namie swallowed the hesitation in her throat, hands hovering alongside the pokeball for her oricorio. She curled her fingers back one by one, however, and faced the truth head on.

"Namie Kosaka," she told one of the reception ladies. This one was surprisingly free of sweat, probably because of the giant tropius sitting behind her and acting as her shade against the island sun. Namie was used to the warmer weather, although she still resigned herself to jumping in a nearby bay with her feraligatr, later. "Checking in for the quarter-finals!"

"Miss Kosaka," the receptionist echoed back at her. "Yes, everything is in order. You chose to be reshuffled into the partner selection pool. Most people did, so there's no surprise there. Your new partner is contestant three-nineteen, a young lady by the name of Naoki Morita. You are both in bracket two, and you will be matched up with the contestants in bracket one in the upcoming match."

"Okay," was all Namie could say in response. "Who are we—"

"—Here are the details of your match, and Miss Morita should be waiting in the pokecenter with the others." The woman presented a piece of paper with various words on it, circling the most paramount information in black ink. She handed it to Namie, and smiled widely at the curious expression forming on her face. "You'll be fine, sweetie. Good luck in the rest of the tournament."

"Thanks!" Namie said with genuine cheerfulness. "I'll do my best!"

* * *

Naoki sat patiently on one of the cushioned seats inside of the pokemon center. There were two different centers on Connection Island, although naturally, she was in the one closest to the reception counters where the other contestants all had to check in at first. The quarter-finals of the tournament had just begun, and none of the matches would officially start until everyone and everything was sorted out. Of the eight pairs remaining in the tournament, only two of them consisted of the same competitors that were teamed up since the beginning. It would have been three pairs, instead, but Naoki's last partner said some purely offensive things that, while seemingly not bothersome at the time, proved to be more annoying than one should have to put up with.

Naoki hoped her new partner was less annoying than that. She was briefed by the receptionist workers that her new teammate was a girl named Namie Kosaka. If her name alone was anything to go by, there was a good chance that she was from the Kanto-Johto region, or similar regions throughout. It would be comforting if Naoki could find someone to confide in or reminisce about home with. Even better yet, someone like her that she could mess around with and relax a little. Despite the high-stakes tournament, Naoki felt all too at ease there, surrounded by people and the beach yet not having an opportunity to properly enjoy it. That part saddened her a bit, and she wondered if there would be time to simply hang out and relax while on this dream-like, private island.

She sighed to herself, wondering if it was worth it to call out her pokemon to train a little while she waited for the girl named Namie to show up. It would be rude to keep her new teammate waiting if she wandered off now, but even ruder to sit there idly and waiting like some forlorn homemaker anticipating a fisher's overdue return from the sea. The thought was vaguely amusing in and of itself, and Naoki spared herself a chaste laugh because of it.

In that same moment, the doors to the pokemon center opened up, and a small stream of people filed in. Naoki glanced up, and scanned the crowd for Namie.

Their eyes met at the same time. Naoki found dark brown eyes similar to her own staring back at her, only these eyes were upturned and much more longer-lashed than hers. Still, they were a pleasant shape in their entirety, and they only disappeared behind blinking eyelids twice before a realization came and lit up the darkness in their corners.

"Naoki?" the girl called out to her. She came forward with a bounce in her step, and curiosity brimming in her smile. "Are you Naoki?"

"Yes, and you're Namie, right?" a small smile appeared. She wanted to look more overjoyed than that, but she was still hesitant. Namie could still be a bad person, after all. "You can call me Kiki, if you want."

"Sure, I don't mind." Namie agreed. "Are you from Johto, by any chance?"

"Yeah, Ecruteak."

"Awesome! I was born in Azalea Town, but I moved to Oblivia and stayed there for like, the longest time."

"No kidding! I have cousins there, I think." The small talk followed naturally, although Naoki tried not to look so generally displeased by such formalities. They had similar origins, so at least they could talk more about that, if all else failed them. "Nice to meet you. Anyway, do you wanna try practicing or...or something? Our match isn't until three."

"What? But that's, like, in five hours!" Namie huffed, and checked the time on the analog clock hanging on the wall, and then double-checked by pulling up the time on her device, too. "Jeez, this sucks. Aren't we in the first bracket, too? Why aren't we going first?"

"Who knows? The people running this system probably know what they're doing, though." Naoki shrugged, and stood up on her feet after stretching some more. "Maybe it's better this way. Gives us time to strategize or whatever."

"I _guess,_ " Namie muttered. "It's just, like, the tournament's been going on for a while, now. I wanna hit the beach and stay on it, for once. Y'know what I mean, Kiki?"

Naoki initially worried that Namie would be someone too serious or too much of a try hard to worry about mundane things like that. But seeing her wonder about a proper break in between all the battling—seeing her long for the white sands and clear water in the same way that Naoki had just now—made her feel lighter and happier than before. Maybe they had more in common than just their Johtoan heritage, after all.

Naoki smiled. "Oh, trust me, Namie. I know."

* * *

"Circu," Dean asked his partner in a half-interested voice. "What are you doing?"

"Mapping out a possible battle strategy beforehand," Circu answered without missing a beat. He answered without looking up from his paper, too. "Your pokemon are more diverse than my last partner's was. I gotta factor that in, somehow."

"Sounds boring and unnecessary," Dean pointed out. "But hey, to each their own. Speaking of which, don't you think it's kinda useless for that? Our match is, like, in less than an hour from now…"

"That's still enough time to think things through. Not that I would ever go into a battle unprepared, but every step ahead is crucial in a time like this." He circled and crossed a few things out on the paper with a ballpoint pen, clicking the end of the pen a few more times before finally glancing up to meet his teammate's eyes. "You don't look too worried, yourself. Are you seeing something that I'm not?"

"Not really. I just think about battle during battle, y'know? Right now, I'm more concerned if I should eat lunch before or _after_ our match." Dean glanced at his fingernails for a quick second, before stretching his arms behind his back and sighing as a satisfying _pop_ resounded from one of them. "Whattaya think?"

"I think I'll lose my appetite if we manage to lose in the quarterfinals," Circu taunted. "But that attitude of yours is admirable, maybe. Kinda dangerous, though."

"Well, if you're doing all the worrying and planning for us, then it's up to me to take care of the other stuff, yeah?" Something like amusement appeared in his voice just now, and the tiniest of smiles crossed his face before being replaced by the shape of a yawn, instead. "Okay, seriously though, what are your thoughts about food before battle? Yay or nay?"

"Oh, why not? Might as well go all out on a full stomach." Circu dropped his pen and paper on the table, and stretched a bit himself as he stood to full height. His eyes glanced at the words _swagger_ and _sand attack_ on his scribbled sheet, as well as the bolded _zen headbutt_ to the left of that.

He joined Dean's side as the two of them headed to get a meal from the pokemon center's cafeteria, before adding on: "But hear me out on this opening battle plan. Let's say that my umbreon starts with sand attack. Then your snorlax—"

"—Laxure," Dean corrected him with the creature's nickname.

"Alright, then _Laxure,_ " Circu repeated, "follows up with zen headbutt. Not only is there a low chance of that pokemon retaliating because of low accuracy, but you could get a flinch effect in there and then we'd already be a leg up."

"Sounds good to me," Dean said. "Laxure can sleep off any injuries it gets by using rest, so I'm really not that concerned."

"Perfect. The rest should be even easier than that—I'll double check to make sure—and then we'll secure ourselves a spot in the semifinals."

"Worry about the semifinals when it's semifinals," Dean insisted. He waved his hand in sweeping motions over the scene before them, that of metal trays and buffet lines. "Right _now_ it looks like we can't even snag ourselves an open table!"

* * *

"How are you holding up, sweetie?" Gabriel asked, voice muttering to a soft tone floating by Carmen's ears. He gave her arm a reassuring squeeze. "Those reporters were a little much, weren't they?"

"To be honest, I'm a little annoyed. But they weren't so bad as the ones that interviewed us during the prelim rounds," Carmen pointed out, chuckling in spite of herself. "Really, though. I feel like they're purposely singling us out. I wouldn't mind so much if they didn't interrupt us during lunch. Don't those guys ever get hungry, too?"

"Sure they do, but their hunger's different from ours. They eat gossip and rumors instead," he pointed this out like it was common knowledge. Carmen made an amused noise in response, to which he replied: "We'll just show them our true strength. Make 'em go speechless and all that."

"I know," she agreed. "I know that I'll be fine as long as I have you." Her eyes shone with affection, and she reached up to plant a tiny, soft kiss on Gabriel's cheek. His skin flushed lightly at her touch, and she giggled at the sight of it. "Did you check the roster? Did you see who we're going up against?"

"Yeah, and they look tough," he said. "We'd better give it our all. But our match doesn't start for a while, so we'll have to play the waiting game, instead."

"That's fine by me," she said. "I don't mind waiting for a little bit. Let's relax a little. With Ohm and Joule, too." Her hand reached for one of her pokeballs, and clicked on the mechanism with a familiar motion that felt less like moving and more like _seeing._ Within seconds, an energetic plusle appeared before them. In the same moment, an equally jovial minun emerged, and they smiled happily at their respective trainers.

"Our next battle is coming up, so stretch for a bit!" Carmen told Joule whilst rubbing its red-tipped ears with affection. "Now, you and Ohm stay out of trouble, okay?"

Joule chirped happily as she bounced her way over to Ohm—Gabriel's Minun and her best friend—with a sweet smile on her face. She squeaked about something, to which Ohm replied with hardy noises of happiness. Then the two of them walked off, exploring the shallow edge of the waters nearby, and laughing joyously as they tried to outrun the encroaching waves. They left tiny footprints in the damp sand, and they were watched affectionately by their trainers from afar.

Gabriel squeezed Carmen's hand once more, but this time he held on even when the pressure disappeared between his fingertips. He didn't need to glance at her to know that a calm smile overtook her features, and the beauty of the sea and the peace of their pokemon were reflected in the deep greens of her eyes. Nevertheless, he brought her hand up to his mouth, and kissed the ridges of her knuckles in sweet repose.

"Let's do our best together."

"Yes, let's!"

* * *

Darkness consumed him wholly, leaving him as nothing more than an idle shadow. He murmured into some device, speaking at a low volume and with a sedate tone that didn't match the violent urges surging through his mind and limbs like fire through ice. Yet still, he maintained himself, and carried on with his words. Mostly, they were questions, asking some person below his station if all the preparations were made, and if they fancied a sound beating if not.

"The area has been secured and mapped out already," he said. "All points of interest are marked on the scanners. There's a file with the basic rundown of security. I'm heading down there later to investigate myself. Yes, yes. Everything seems in order then." He looked up, a bright screen now manifesting light in the sightless dark. He gleaned at the numbers and figures, and smiled widely to himself in satisfaction.

"These fools will have more to worry about than stupid tournaments. Let's see how much of a paradise this island will be once we're done with it."

He stopped speaking, and the voice on the other line grew quiet, as well. There was nothing but the low hum of the computers in front of him, and the solitary clicking noises that he made while inspecting the rest of the data. His tongue clicked in a similar fashion, and his eyes turned icy at the venom spewing in his mind.

"You two are fools for coming here, of all places. I'll show you what a mistake that was, and how you should have died in that fire like you were supposed to…"

* * *

"Dean, get a move on," Circu scolded. "Our match starts in ten minutes."

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered. "That's the thing I hate about tournaments…"

"What thing?"

"...Everyone's so strict about time," Dean answered after trailing off. "It's not like Dialga itself is here. No need to be worry about being late or early or whatever."

"I thought you were from Kanto," Circu said. "But you're familiar with Sinnohian mythology?"

"My last teammate was from Sinnoh," Dean explained. "They talked about Dialga, Palkia, and everything in between. They were pretty into it, too. At least it wasn't too boring."

"Well, nevermind that. Our match is starting soon. I trust that you'll remember the plan I came up with."

"Like I said, there's nothin' wrong with that, but like, do we _really_ need to plan so far ahead? Things might go differently than you expect them to." He glanced around carefully, then slouched over in apparent exhaustion as he stifled another yawn. "Well, whatever. It's showtime, I guess."

"I'm not so stupid that I'd rely on simple tactics all the time," Circu coolly retorted, an unreadable smile stretching across his face. "It's always good to have options, though." His hand hovered over his pokeball, and he came to a full stop at the open battlefield at last. This field was out in an open, sandy clearing in the middle of the island. There were dozens of spectators and news reporters off to the sides, as well as a referee with a broad smile on their face to greet them.

Circu took up the right side of their field, while Dean managed the left. Their opponents were barely arriving on time, too, and they walked out to the middle of the field where they greeted them with friendly handshakes. Dean's was more lackluster, but his lack of energy was (thankfully) unaccompanied by mal intent. He simply shrugged, and took up his proper side of the field to begin the match. The referee went over the rules again, reminded everyone that this was being broadcasted live, and made a point to mention a few sponsors for the tournament, here and there.

By the time he was finished, all four contestants were itching to fight. Circu's eyes were golden, nearly liquid introspection coming alive with the scene before him. While he kept a cool exterior, he felt fired up in reality, with a wild buzz of excitement running through his veins. He wondered if Dean felt the same way, or if he felt _anything_ from the slumped figure he held, and the half-lidded stare of boredom he wore on his face.

Whatever it was, they had to feel it in unison. At the same time, as if on cue, the two of them reached for their first pokeball, and activated the mechanism in widely differing throws (one movement was cold, calculated, and assured, while the other was lethargic, nonchalant, and amused).

No matter the difference, their respective pokemon appeared in the field. Circu's frontrunner was his umbreon, a playful but laidback creature, whose bristling fur upon being summoned straightened out as it stared down the opponents with a bright look in its hazy eyes. Next to it was Dean's frontrunner, a large and rotund snorlax named Laxure in contrast to the lithe and limber umbreon that stood beside it. Despite this difference, it seemed to be enthralled by the idea of battling. That, or its wide smile was a result of having a large amount of food to eat beforehand. Either way, it matched its owner's lazy disposition, and looked nonthreatening at first glance.

But, this was the quarterfinals, after all. To underestimate the opponent at this stage would be nothing short of foolish. Circu and Dean sized up their competitors, and gave each other sidelong glances of reassurance that _yes,_ they could do this.

The referee flipped a coin, which landed in favor of Circu and Dean. The two of them readied themselves for a brief moment, and Circu was the one to incite the first command—the first _movement_ —in all the quarterfinals of the tournament. He had gotten through a lot to get to this point, and he wasn't going to stop here. In a voice so calm that it betrayed the excitement within him, Circu called out to his umbreon.

"Sand Attack, Umbreon!"

Umbreon complied effortlessly as she kicked up the sand of the battlefield with her hind legs in rapid succession, starting up dust clouds that blinded her opponents' eyes. It wasn't the most flashy move to begin with, but winning battles didn't require pizzazz. In Circu's mind, all he needed was strategy and _trust,_ in both himself and his pokemon, as well as his new partner beside him. And although Dean had done his best to be utterly unenthused by the tournament thus far, there was something about him right now that indicated otherwise. Even though he was slouched over—and even though his eyes were glossed with outer disinterest for the events in front of him—there was no hiding the tiny movements in his hands, or the way he followed the movements of the pokemon with a sharp and discerning look.

When Dean ordered Laxure to use zen headbutt as a followup to Umbreon's sand attack, there was no hiding the fact that he took Circu's strategy beforehand into consideration, even though he whined about how unnecessary it all was. And that was surprising to Circu, who only had a vague idea of the situation, who could still be wrong about Dean and that the guy was just too lazy to make a different move, instead. But whether or not he was wrong or right couldn't be proven in a single battle. No, the two of them had to succeed in order to move on, because in Circu's mind just now, he envisioned them moving on to the next round, and the round after that.

In Circu's mind, he envisioned them _winning._ And there was no way he could lose now that he saw that image in his mind. There was no way he would disappoint Dean (or let Dean disappoint him, in turn) now that he saw a glimpse of their battle strategies paired together. There was no way that he would send his pokemon out into the fray, only to get worked up into a loss. There was no absolute way that this battle could end in anything else but a victory for them. This tournament was drawing to a close, but that didn't mean that Circu or Dean had to be drawn, with it.

The competition was already in its quarterfinals stage, but for some reason, Circu felt like it had all just begun.


End file.
